Alexis Gets Frosted (12 page)

“Oh!” I said, clapping my hands.

I heard someone behind me, and turned.

“Turned out pretty great, didn't it?” said my granddad, sipping his coffee.

“It's awesome. Thank you
so
much!” I gave him a big hug.

“Only one problem,” he said.

“What?”

“How're you going to fit this thing in your car?”

It wasn't long before we realized that the only solution would be for my granddad to come back with his tarp and his truck and everything again tomorrow to transport the house to school. I don't know how I'll ever thank this man enough. All I know is, I'm glad I lined up Matt to help when we
got there!

That afternoon, my house was a festival of sugar. Katie, Mia, Emma, and I were like whirling dervishes getting this house finished. We had four little workstations, and we were like elves—busy, busy!

Katie trimmed and set the wrought-iron railings along the porch and roof with frosting and black licorice whips. That was the hardest part, if you ask me.

I shingled the roof with black candy wafers.

Mia piped white decorative trim around the windows as shutters and window frames. And Emma created the windows (the second hardest thing).

After about an hour, it was really looking good. After two hours, it was incredible. Katie wanted to keep going, but I had to put on my CEO hat and say enough was enough. We could work on this thing forever, but after a certain point it wasn't worth it. The result was already spectacular, and we didn't need to go on; it just wouldn't be an efficient use of our time.

Mia took out her phone and snapped dozens of photos for our website. We even e-mailed a couple to Matt, so he could see how well it turned out, and
some to my grandparents, since they were in on it from the beginning. And, of course, we'd print out a photo for our time capsule.

We cleaned up, and then I sent my friends home with huge hugs and profuse thank-yous. We had a big day again tomorrow, so a break would do us all good. Plus, everyone had homework, and I had to put in the last finishing touches to my oral report.

After they left, I sat for a minute in the kitchen, admiring our work. It was really beautiful. It was funny how you felt like you could just keep working on something—adding this or that cute thing, improving what you'd already done, thinking up a clever new detail. It made me understand how my mom must've felt working on her real dollhouse. It could be an endless project if you wanted it to be.

When my family got home, they were totally wowed by the gingerbread house. Inside, I was bursting with pride, but I played it cool. The truth was, I still couldn't wait to see Olivia's face tomorrow when I brought it in. I knew I shouldn't care, but I did.

That night, I went up to my room and took one last look at my time capsule spreadsheet. I'd filled
in pretty much everything, proudly inking in my mother's childhood hobbies (ballet dancing, dollhouses) and my own (math, business), as well as my goals for the future (the aforementioned marrying of Matt Taylor and running a large company). But the part I'd left blank, the part about enemies, I was finally ready to fill in.

I didn't want to name names, because things can change, and it just seemed so negative. Instead I gave a long answer.

Sometimes people will try your patience or do things that you think are pretty mean. But there's always a solution, even if it's not an easy one. You just need to remember all the good things you have going on in your life and let the not-so-good stuff roll off your back. Just act like a duck. Quack and let it roll off your back. My mom taught me that.

I lined up most of the items I'd be photographing for the capsule: my business ledger; the pretty pink dress I wore to Dylan's sweet sixteen when
Matt asked me to dance; a DVD of the first season of
Celebrity Ballroom
; a tag from my favorite store, Big Blue; and a photo of me in my homecoming parade costume, where I dressed up as a Greek goddess and went with Matt. I was pretty happy with the collection. At the last minute I added an eraser shaped like a cupcake, and a calculator, because why not?

Then I sat back, relaxed, and let myself daydream for a moment about being Mrs. Matt Taylor. I hoped our children would have his blond hair. Our babies would be smart
and
beautiful! It was the best daydream ever.

M
y granddad arrived early Friday morning; he was there before I even got up. After a hasty breakfast, we carefully loaded the gingerbread house onto the bed of his truck, where he secured it with all sorts of padding and blankets and bungee cords and stuff. I couldn't look, but I trusted him. He'd also brought a little folding trolley that we could use to wheel the house into school.

We swung by the Taylors', and Matt came out to hop in for the ride. His parents and Emma and his little brother, Jake, came out too, to see the creation in the back of the truck. Everyone oohed and aahed over it, and I was really proud.

At school, Katie met us at the door. She had also come early. I am not that sentimental, but I had
to say I was feeling a little teary and grateful for all these wonderful people who were helping me. I was pretty lucky I had them, or I would never have pulled it off. It reminded me of what my mom had said when we discussed Olivia. (“You are great the way you are. You have wonderful friends, a family who loves you, and one big, bad Olivia shouldn't get in the way of any of that. You need to act like a duck.”) Quack!

I had made prearrangements to hide the gingerbread house in the teachers' lounge, so that it would be a surprise for our class, so that was where we wheeled it. The teachers who were there kind of freaked out at how cool it was, including Mr. Donnelly, which was nice since he's my favorite.

“Alexis! I had no idea you had this much artistic talent!” he said.

“Well, I had lots of help,” I admitted, smiling at my granddad, Katie, and Matt.

We left the table, and Matt said he'd meet me back there during his study hall period to wheel the house in with me. I hugged my granddad good-bye and promised to call to let him know how it went. I hugged Katie too, and she left a little tub of frosting and a mini-spatula on the trolley, in case I needed it later.

I could barely sit still through homeroom, and I literally ran to the faculty lounge when it was time to pick up the trolley. Matt was already there, waiting for me. He must've run, too, which made me even more grateful.

“Ready?” he asked, with his adorable dimples and grin.

“Ready!” I said, and off we went through the halls.

Everyone we passed stopped in their tracks to look at the house. It was really spectacular. Plus, you don't usually see that much candy wheeling through school every day. I couldn't wait to see Olivia's face. Even though we'd made peace, this would be the icing on the cake!

Slowly, slowly we made our way down the hall. There was almost no one left by the time we reached our destination. Into Mrs. Carr's classroom we went, and everyone was already there, seated. For a moment, there was dead silence, then Sara Rex started to clap, and everyone joined in. Olivia (dressed as a fancy Victorian lady, in a high-waisted shirt and a long-sleeved, high-necked blouse) had a look of wonder on her face, shaking her head in disbelief, even as she clapped. I met her eye and smiled a small smile, and she smiled back. Pretty
soon the whole class was cheering, and I was grinning, and finally, Mrs. Carr had to quiet everyone down.

Matt ducked out with a wave, and Mrs. Carr said, “Alexis, I think you should go first.”

I put down my bag, got out my notecards, and began talking about home life in Victorian England. Halfway through, though, I waved my arm to gesture to a feature of the house, and I heard a sickening crack. I'd knocked the chimney off. For a second, everyone froze, and then, you will never believe this:
Olivia Allen
jumped up and quickly reattached it while I continued my presentation! Mrs. Carr smiled approvingly at Olivia as she worked. She was kind of pasting it with some extra frosting, and once it was back on, she took her seat until I finished. At the end I said, “And a special thanks to everyone who helped me on the house: my granddad, my friends at the Cupcake Club, Matt Taylor, and . . . Olivia Allen for saving the chimney, which was a huge part of Victorian life.” She nodded in acknowledgment while everyone applauded and I bowed. It was a major triumph, in a lot of ways.

George Martinez called out, “Can we eat it now?” Everyone laughed while Mrs. Carr threatened them all with a trip to the principal's office
if they so much as touched it, but I didn't care. I even considered saying yes, but I figured the feeding frenzy that would result would ruin everyone else's presentations.

That afternoon we all gathered at Katie's to do our weekend baking. I was feeling so relaxed, with everything resolved with Olivia, my project finished and turned in, and a handful of fun surprises lined up for my mom's birthday.

I did Mona's minis today, since Emma wanted to work on some of the new recipes—the strawberry shortcakes and the apple-cinnamon cupcakes in particular. Mia fried the bacon, and Katie colored the pink frosting for the ballerina cupcakes, and we were like an efficient, well-oiled machine.

“We've really got the assembly-line thing down!” I said later as we stood in a row frosting cupcakes at the counter. “Henry Ford would be proud!”

“Why? Who's he?” asked Katie.

“The car guy who invented the assembly line!” I said.

“Hey, I've been meaning to ask you. Whatever happened with Olivia?” asked Mia.

“Yeah!” agreed Katie. “We never heard another peep from you about it.”

I hesitated, tempted to tell them the whole story, but then I decided to be a duck and let it roll off my back. “You know, I think we buried the hatchet,” I said, shrugging casually.

“How?” asked Emma.

“We acted like ducks!” I said, and then I laughed maniacally.

Everyone started quacking, and that was the end of the discussion.